


prettiest thing (the fever dream remix)

by christchex



Series: prettiest thing [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Remix, outlaw au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-11-02 04:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christchex/pseuds/christchex
Summary: Michael Guerin got his hand smashed and then shot Jesse Manes. He's not entirely sure what happened after.(A Remix of Haloud's prettiest thing i ever stole)





	prettiest thing (the fever dream remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [prettiest thing i ever stole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331859) by [haloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud). 

> I really loved Haloud's fic and I was thinking about how absolutely messed up Michael had to be on the drive out of Roswell and I thought about it and thought about it and then this happened. It's _experimental_ Enjoy.
> 
> [The initial mood playlist I made for Haloud can be found here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/19tIQeHzi4dLYxHOT1Ic7n)
> 
> [And the mood playlist I made for this one can be found here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1wxfWYCIiEm4nORgIVDWOY)

Michael wasn’t sure where they were. He knew what happened, the hell of his hand was hard to ignore and the shake in his body told him the adrenaline was winding down. Shaking in the passenger seat of his own truck, he tried to look out into the night. He tried to focus on anything besides the burn of his hand the press of Alex’s hand to his thigh and just how damn good it had felt to pull a trigger and watch a demon fall. A road wavered in front of him and he couldn’t tell if it was pain, exhaustion, or whatever tiny pill Alex had slipped into his good hand miles and hours or minutes and yards back.

_ “Who taught you how to shoot a gun? Because you kind of suck at it.” _

Fire in one hand and cold metal in another, Michael couldn’t think enough to answer right away. Painkillers did a job to a certain point. Everything had a hazy sort of glow to it and Michael couldn’t see the mile markers enough to figure out where they were, when they were. Words came out his mouth, a response that was slightly slurred and fully sarcastic.

He felt good, numb mostly, but good to his soul.

_ You might kill someone. _

Michael could get used to that. He could get used to cold metal in his hand and Alex on his arm and the world down one more jackass.

He could get used to the fog too, if he tried really hard.

The road was a blur, but a better one than it was before. It wasn’t fading to black and it wasn’t full of pulsating pain and it wasn’t what he imagined when he staggered to his truck, staggered to the kitchen, staggered into a scene and made it bloody.

He could still feel the recoil of the gun in his right hand, he thought so anyway. The pills Alex gave him were starting to take over and his mind didn’t really care what was real feeling and what was phatom. He could feel Alex under him, hands running down a firm chest and he could feel a hammer and the slow grind of bone on bone and skin on skin and Michael wasn’t sure exactly what Alex gave him except that his skin wasn’t on fire too much anymore and he wanted nothing more than to make Alex pull over see how far he could ride this high.

He might have an addictive personality but he can’t say for sure he’s got the genetics for it. He thinks he could get pretty addicted to Alex.

Michael likes the feeling of good things a little more than he cares about whether they’re right.

He doesn’t know if he has a real memory of a gas station, of a gun and some cash, or it’s his brain telling him he’s got some different kinds of options now. 

_ You might kill someone. _

The sound of the road under the old tires of the truck doesn’t much sound like screaming, but with his ear against the glass Michael could hear every angry shout that ever came his way. The night stretched on in front of him and Michael imagined him and Alex, runaways through a desertscape dealing out justice. The night stretched on in front of him and Michael was sure that infinity stayed in that moment, angry yells in one ear, and Alex’s teasing voice in the other.

He could get used to the fog in his head, he didn’t really have to try. It was better than the view of the shed’s roof from the dirty wood floor and the pool of his own blood. Dirty floors and bloody pools turned into a vast desert, turned into a parking lot, turned into more of the great big expanse of desert space. 

Jesse ended up in a pool too, tile floor red. Michael thought it was a nice color. Really added something to the decor. A homey little touch.

If Michael giggled out loud he didn’t know. The tired were loud and his heart sounded like it might explode, a deep drum in his chest and his ears and his hand.

There’s a chance the drugs weren’t working like they should.

_ You might kill somebody. _

It was funny because he had, because he’d thought of it more than once as he left another shit home in another shit town and no one noticed his miraculous escapes. Like magic he was invisible to everyone but the boy who drove him away from dark alley and a bad idea and maybe Alex turned the music on because he didn’t remember the sound of music in the background of that particular nightmare.

The road stretched on and Michael wasn’t actually sure how long it was since they stopped, since Alex stole for him and Michael killed for him, but really the world wasn’t missing Alex’s daddy all that much. Or at all.

_ I got steady hands. _

Alex had a firm hand on Michael’s thigh and that was the only thing Michael was really sure about, the only certainty when his mind couldn’t really remember which timeline they were in, because this felt like every fantasy of escape he’d ever had except his head was foggy as all shit and he had killed a monster and he thought that the hero carried the captive out and to freedom and-

Maybe he should sleep, with the road a lullaby beneath him and Alex solid and warm and close.

He could be closer though.

_ I got steady hands. _

They took Michael apart once already, twice and a third time, and Alex’s hands were the prettiest thing Michael had ever seen, slightly slick with blood and taking the gun from Michael’s shaking hand, only the one because the other was too busy falling to pieces and shattered bone, too busy being broken to do shit.

Alex’s steady hand gripped his leg harder and there was a chance Michael was missing a whole conversation and maybe saying some words too.

The road was dark ahead and no matter how long it had been or hadn’t been, they’d have to stop for gas soon and Michael didn’t have much in the truck, didn’t actually have much to begin with, and Alex grabbed him and ran and who actually stole whom is a question for another night, a clearer one, with brighter stars than the clouds could cover and more stars than just the one behind the wheel. Whatever indie-rock-pop-punk Alex had managed to put on his radio was burning into his fevered dreams because he doesn’t quite remember ever thinking Alex was a star and he was sure someone else might have noticed it before.

Michael imaged the truck sputtering underneath them. He imagined the shrill cry of sirens and blinding lights. He imagined Jesse Manes rising from the bloody floor as he stared him dead in the eyes and told him not to play with daddy’s gun.

_ You might kill somebody. _

Michael was more than fine with that, if it meant him and Alex driving down some road on the way to Texas and away from dismissive eyes of a town that wrote him off as nothing but a statistic and a system that never seemed to notice when he ran.

He could feel the fire as it crept back in, feel the point where the hot gun burned, how it connected him and alex in an endless loop of cosmic proportions and maybe the drugs haven’t worn off like he thought.

Alex’s hand moved higher on his thigh and Michael was sure that there was nothing prettier than that hand with those black nails and blood splatter. His hazy gaze flickered to Alex and he was sure that he was the prettiest thing he ever stole.


End file.
